


Desperate Dreams

by Syble



Category: Battlestar Galactica (1978)
Genre: Dreams, Dreamsharing, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1732646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syble/pseuds/Syble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starbuck has been Dreaming</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the BSGslash Yahoo Group

Bodies were moving in synchronized motion, glistening in the low light of the room as they continued the ancient rhythmic dance of desire. Moans of pleasure reverberated off the walls as a counter point to an animistic growl of need. A need so intense it was painful, a desire so raw it was savage.

His hands held onto the firm muscular form below him as he powered forward only to be met by an equally demanding thrust backward. The firm wet buttocks slapped sensuously against him. His nostrils were filled with the scent below him, tantalizing his senses and heightening his pleasure until he could contain himself no longer. Burning spasms coursed through him, a climax so intense his senses were overloaded, all he could hear was the sound of the blood buzzing through his ears as he cried out in need and longing.

The buzzing became more demanding, more intense, forcing him to surface.

Starbuck opened his eyes and glared at the alarm clock, buzzing ruthlessly next to his bed. His whole body was throbbing and a slick wetness told him just how much the dream had affected him. Silencing the alarm with swipe of his hand, he rolled onto his back, his arm across his eyes trying to block out the reality of being awake. The dream had been so intense, so real, that he was having a hard time separating it from reality.

The bed shifted next to him and Starbuck eyes flew open. He stared at the form lying in the bed next to him, covered in the sheets from head to toe. All he could do was stare as he tried to force his mind awake, to remember, to understand. It was a dream, wasn't it? Indefinable emotions coursed through him as he fought against the sleep cobwebs in his mind.

As he watched, the sleeping form turned over, uncovering the face that had been hidden from him. Blue eyes sleepily looked up at him.

"You better get up, or you'll be late," Cassiopeia murmured as she brought the sheet up around her head, snuggling down deeper into the bed.

Dazed, Starbuck got up and went to the flush to clean up. It was a dream. Only a dream. It didn't mean anything. It was just a dream he repeated to himself. These types of dreams happen. He'd read up on dreams. This was nothing more than something in his subconscious trying to work out some sort of dominance issue. Nothing more.

As he left his quarters, the only thing he couldn't explain was way he had been so crushingly disappointed that the eyes that had looked sleepily up at him, had been blue, not green.


	2. Desperate Dreams

He had never felt anything so erotic before. His skin was still tingling from the aftermath of the dream as his sleep soaked mind settled down to bask in the glow of satisfaction it had left him with. His pulse still pounded, his breath was still ragged. Never had a dream affected him this way. It was as if it had been real.

The sweat that coated his body was real. The breathlessness of exertion was real. His blood, pounding madly through his veins, was real. This dream had been all too real.

He could still feel the impression of fingers as they had held onto him.  
Could still feel the sting left from desperate bodies slapping together in a need so fierce it was indescribable.

Never had he ever experienced such pleasure, such raw desire. He'd not had wet dreams since he was 21. Now, he was having them almost regularly, almost every night this secton. Only tonight had been the most powerful, the most real. And if he was truthful with himself, the most satisfying.

What was he doing having erotic wet dreams about his wingman? He'd never desired another man before. But after so many dreams, he finally had to admit to himself that he did desire another man now. In the rational reality of wakefulness, he had searched honestly though his feelings. What he had discovered had been disturbing.

And oddly comforting.

Rubbing his hand through his hair he looked over at the timepiece on the dresser. His alarm would be going off soon. Reluctantly, he pushed all thoughts of the dream back and tried to focus on the day at hand.

It was then that his alarm went off.

"Dad! Dad, are you awake?!" It was punctuated by his very awake son launching himself at the bed, landing with perfect trajectory across Apollo. Plenty of painful practice kept his more sensitive parts out of harms way.

"Mornin' dad!"

"Good morning to you, too."

"We're going on a field trip to the launch bay today!"

"Really? That's today? I never would have guessed. You only mentioned it five times yesterday, and at dinner, and when I put you to bed, and then when I put you back to bed, after you had decided to get up to tell me about it again - at sometime that was way to early to be awake at."

"Dad!" Boxey laughed, then just as fast as his arrival had been, he launched himself off the bed and was running into his room, his chattering regarding his days upcoming events non-stop.

More slowly than his son, Apollo got up and went into the small kitchen to fix his morning cup of coffee. His mind should have been on the patrols to assign, the inspections to do, but all his mind could concentrate on was the dreams, and the uncertain feelings of apprehension centering around one thought.

How in Hades was he going to be able to face Starbuck?


	3. Two Dreams United

Moans of pleasure reverberating off the walls.

A need so intense it is painful.

A desire so raw it is savage.

Hands holding a firm muscular form.

Burning spasms coursing throughout.

Climax so intense; so erotic it's indefinable.

Such an experience of pleasure, such a raw desire.

Blood pounding in his veins, buzzing through his ears as he cries out in need and longing.

The buzzing becoming more demanding, more intense, forcing him to surface.

Starbuck opened his eyes and glared at the alarm clock, buzzing ruthlessly next to this bed.

Not again. That damn dream again. Silencing the alarm with swipe of his hand, he rolled onto his back his arm across his eyes trying to block out the reality of yet another night of torturous dreams.

The bed shifted next to him and Starbuck closed his eyes tighter. Frak not again. Just last night Cassie had woken him up. He'd been in the middle of anther dream, and she'd known it. She wanted to know whom he was dreaming about. He couldn't tell her. She hadn't believed him, but she had accepted his answer.

Now, he couldn't face another round of questions that he had no answers for.

"We can't keep doing this."

"I know. I don't know what to do."

"Starbuck, we have to talk about this."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. I just know these dreams have to stop."

"Why?"

"Because we can't live like this."

Starbuck lifted his arm up, opening his eyes and turned to look into a pair of vivid green eyes.

 

Starbuck jolted awake. He turned and looked but there was no one else in the bed. He was alone. Confused and disturbed, he sat up and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to force his mind awake. Now he was having dreams within dreams. Reality seemed so far away.

This dream went beyond what he'd read about erotic dreams. This one seemed to have a message. It was trying to tell him something. Should he talk to Apollo?

Starbuck bolted up from the bed. "Yah, right. I'm only reading what I want into it."

This dream, he decided, did have a message, but that wasn't it. It was what the Apollo said in his dream.

"Because we can't live like this."

Yes, he couldn't live like this anymore.


	4. Two Dreamers

Apollo placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes. 'Just for a moment,' he thought. 'I just need a moment.' He hadn't slept very well all secton long, and it was catching up to him. "I can't let this continue. I have to do something about this."

"About what?"

Apollo's head came up so fast, his vision swam from the dizziness. "Boomer!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Boomer sat down in the chair on the other side of Apollo's desk. "You look terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"I sure don't feel like it."

"So what can't you let continue?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired."

"Uh huh. That's the same answer I got from Starbuck when I found him talking to himself in showers."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and he looked just about as bad as you do. So, are you going to tell me what's up between you and Starbuck?"

"What do you mean?"

"Apollo, I've known you two long enough to know when something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, Boomer.''

"Uh huh."

"What did Starbuck say to you?"

"Same as you. Nothing wrong."

"So why do you think something is wrong?"

"Because you two have been avoiding each other."

Avoiding each other? It was true, he hadn't seen much of Starbuck lately and to be truthful he hadn't minded, since he was apprehensive about how he'd react around him - but had he been avoiding Starbuck? Had Starbuck been avoiding him?

Why? Had Apollo somehow done something to make him want to avoid him? Had he let something slip? Frak, now what was he to do.

"I suppose you'll tell me you are having dreams too?"

"What do you mean?" Apollo felt his insides freeze in a mixture of apprehension and terror. What did Boomer know? What did Starbuck know? How could either of them know anything?

"That's Starbuck's excuse. Said he's been doing a lot of dreaming lately and it's been affecting his sleeping. I couldn't get anything else out of him."

"Oh."

"I better go, or I'll be late for my patrol. What ever it is, Apollo, I hope you two work this out soon. I sure don't want to find out that you feel asleep on duty." With quick salute, he was gone, leaving a very thoughtful Apollo behind.

So, Starbuck was dreaming, too. It couldn't possibly be the same dream. Not Starbuck. He was the playboy of the fleet. He didn't even swing that way - did he? Was Starbuck dreaming about him? The dreams had seemed so real, and last night it was as if he had actually been there in bed, talking to Starbuck.

"Lords I'm tired. Now, I'm not being rational."

As his duty shift passed, Apollo couldn't help thinking about what Boomer had said. Starbuck was dreaming too. By the end of his shift Apollo had decided - it was time he took back control of his dreams.


	5. Desperate Schemes

It was that dream again. Yes, she could hear Starbuck's soft moans.  
Cassiopeia rolled over and watched Starbuck as he shifted in his sleep, his arousal very evident beneath the light cover. Starbuck arched his back, his hands clutching at the sheets beneath him, his breath growing more ragged.  
Anger at his continued dreaming coursed through her. It didn't matter that he said he couldn't control it, that he wished it would stop. He was obviously getting enjoyment out of them.

Why wouldn't he tell her who he was dreaming about? He claimed he didn't remember, but she didn't believe him. She knew she sure would remember such an obviously erotic dream.

She watched as his hips began thrusting slightly up and down, his moans more intense. She knew where this would end. Last night she had watched him, hoping he'd cry out the name she needed to know, but as she watched him thrust urgently into the bed, his hand clutching the pillow beneath him, all she heard were more and more urgent moans. Then he came, jerking in rhythmic spasms, with an inarticulate cry followed by a long drawn out groan as he emptied himself onto the bed.

Frustrated, and oddly aroused, Cassiopeia had fought off the urge to shake him awake as she had done before. She didn't think she could deal with the denials again, the guilty anger. But watching had been almost as painful.  
Whoever he was dreaming about, she knew it wasn't her. She had tried previously when she had wakened him in the middle of one of these dreams, to get him to satisfy her but he had only murmured his need for sleep, and after rolling away from her, was soon fast asleep again. Apparently he didn't need her anymore, not with his dream lover to satisfy him. So last night, she had left him alone. She had been to upset to simply lie next to him while he enjoyed someone else, even if it were only a dream.

Now tonight she did not intend on simply watching. As Starbuck began to roll over, Cassiopeia reached out and grabbed his shoulder, roughly shaking him awake.

"Starbuck. Starbuck!"

Blurry, angry eyes squinted back at her. "What?"

"Who was it?"

"Who was what?"

"Who were you just dreaming about."

Sleep fogged eyes narrowed but he didn't answer.

"Who were you fucking just now in your dream?"

"No one. Leave me alone." He attempted to roll back over but she caught at him again.

"Who Starbuck? I need to know!"

Slitted eyes regarded her for a moment. "Don't worry about it."

"So you do know who it was."

"No, I..I.."

"Please Starbuck." She regarded him for a moment, then played her last card.  
"Or are you not telling me because you would prefer this person to me. You dream about them, not me. You must want them instead of me."

"No." But his denial wasn't the forceful denial she had hoped for. It was a tired whisper that held no truth in it.

"Don't you care about me anymore?"

"Cassie, of course I do." But this answer too was lacking sincerity.

"I want you to go see a dream specialist."

"A what?"

"A dream specialist. She can help you figure out what your dreams mean."

"Cassie, I don't need any help figuring out my dreams."

"No?" She stared at him, letting him see the hurt and anger. "Then tell me.  
What do they mean? Who have you been fucking? Who are you wishing was in your bed, besides me?"

"Cassie, it's not like that."

"No? Then go see Neralla and prove me wrong."

Starbuck rubbed at his face then sighed heavily. "Okay."

Smiling she leaned over and kissed him. "Thank you."

Cassiopeia decided not to let him push her away again. Using all her skills, all the old techniques that had been handed down throughout the generations of skilled socialators, she began to reclaim his body. Her skilful hands wove sensual spells across his body, getting it to respond to her again, getting his mind off his dreams and back on to her, where they belonged. She would win his desire and heart back.


	6. Joined to the Fire

"No! Don't go!" Apollo cried out in protest, his own voice waking him.

Breathing heavily, his body achingly aroused, he tried to get himself under control. But the desire and need that had flooded through his veins during the dream, were still there and he reached down to soothe himself. It wasn't long before he gasped out his release, his hand hard on himself, eyes closed conjuring images of the dream back to him. As his breathing retuned to normal and his senses came fully awake, Apollo was appalled at what he had done.

Dreaming was one thing - he couldn't control his sub conscious no matter how hard he'd tried - but now he had consciously held Starbuck's image in his mind as he had released the burning desire that had coursed through him.  
Even now, with his mind fully awake, he could feel himself stir again at the though of Starbuck and the dream.

Apollo covered his eyes with his arm. "Oh lords, what am I going to do? This is only getting worse."

He tried to turn his thoughts. He tried to conjure up Sheba, naked and wanton, lying in his bed, her hands and mouth working urgently on his body.  
Dark hair spilled across his lower stomach and thighs as her head bobbed up and down upon him. In his mind, he reached out and ran his fingers through the tangle of hair, directing that sweet mouth to a more urgent tempo. He thrilled at the feel of the short soft hair, blond wisps escaping his fingers, rough stubble tantalizing his thighs.

Abruptly, Apollo opened his eyes. His rational mind screamed at him that this was wrong, it was unnatural and wrong.

But he couldn't deny the feelings. He didn't understand them, but something in him wanted to accept them. Accept their meaning and release the inner voice that had been telling him for yarhens how much he truly cared for Starbuck. He knew he loved him - that had never been the issue. But when did it turn into this kind of love? When did it turn into this deep longing that was fuelling a desire that was so unnatural, and yet so right?

Apollo closed his eyes tightly and let himself feel. Tears escaped, sliding down his face as his world changed . When he opened his eyes, he knew he was lost. There was no going back. With a sigh that was more relief than fear, he let himself accept the feelings and longings. And it felt so right, how could he have not realized this before? Instead of the dread that had followed him around of late, he felt light hearted and energized.

Grasping at what little hope he could find, Apollo clearly remembered what Boomer had told him.

Starbuck had been dreaming too.


	7. Lost in Her Reverie

Starbuck got off the shuttle and headed toward one of the Volarus' cavernous holds. The ship, in its previous existence, had been an ore freighter. At one time, her holds would have been filled with raw tylium ore. Now there was no ore, but she was still full. But not lifeless minerals - now she was full of life. The old ship had found a new existence as a home for thousands of wayward refugees. Her storage holds had been converted into living areas and her main hold, in the center of the ship, had been turned into a market place where the population could barter goods or services.

As Starbuck passed through into this main hold, he stopped and took a look around. They'd done a good job of creating a piece of home, tucked away on this old freighter, he thought. The transformed hold reminded him of one of the old shopping fairs that had set up once a yahren in the town near where he had grown up as a child. Colorful tents and unusual aromas were a happy memory from the past that now seemed to have come to life before him.

Brilliantly decorated stalls displayed their wares for all to see. The ramshackle stalls, not much more than unused packing material, fabric and the occasional odd shaped pieced of metal, were tightly packed and Starbuck had to wind his way down the narrow aisles.

Idly Starbuck wondered who had brought so much packing material, when there were other items of need that could have been saved. It seemed, no matter which ship he visited the industrious residents had found some ingenious use for what once would have been cast off. Perhaps it had been some demented packer, over stuffing each container with protective layers, more concerned that things arrived undamaged than how much could have been packed in the valuable space of the containers.

As he walked, he took in the sights around him, bolts of brightly colored material, whimsical containers and foods of all kinds. He could smell the rich Gemini spices which added a nice balance to the almost sweet Taurian incense that permeated the air of the market place.

It was tempting to imagine he was back home, enjoying the yahrenly seaside fair. Only the scent of the ocean was missing, that salty almost fishy smell that had permeated through most of his childhood memories. In the background, he could hear the Volarus' engines, a constant rumble that occasionally changed in pitch and tone, and decided that they did a reasonable imitation of the roar of the ocean.

He continued on past shops of makeshift bedding, clothes and eating utensils. As he walked by the last shop in the aisle, a small bowl caught his eye. Pointed at one end and brightly painted, it was hard to mistake it - a Viper. The nose section had been indented to hold a spoon and the main engines had been hollowed out to create the hollow of the bowl. He chuckled to himself, thinking that Boxey would have liked such a bowl, but tempted as he was to stop and purchase it, he was still mindful of why he was here and checked his directions instead.

Cassie had said Neralla's shop was the in the back among the pharmacists and healers. There were scant few schooled doctors in the fleet. So most of the fleet had to rely on old remedies and older knowledge of the healers and socialators. They may not be able to save you if you'd been shot by a laser, but they were useful, if sometimes unorthodox, and they enjoyed a good success with the everyday complaints of their clients. Starbuck wasn't a fan of most of their treatments ever since he'd seen some of them in practice aboard the senior ship - if it came down to it, he'd rather have bad circulation than let them put a Aquarian leech on him - but he did enjoy the calming effects of some of the herbal teas and powders. He'd been known to incorporate some of the powders into his fumerellos. Not the illegal narcotic agents he knew he was accused of using, but the safe and effective herbs. He was stressed, not stupid.

The last few aisles were where the scent of delicious smelling foods were to be found and he passed by several shops offering synthesized sweets and pastries. The aroma was surprisingly pleasant but he wondered just how good a reclaimed food product could actually taste? He shuddered at the thought of where the reclaimed foodstuff originated, and hurried on his way. He wanted to get this over with.

The material used for the shops in the back row was far less colorful than the other stalls of the market. Apparently, the need for these services didn't require the flashy decorations of the barter shops. Here, in subdued hues, various material scraps had been sewn together to create stalls that were little more than tents. They reminded Starbuck of a Scorpion nomad tent city like the ones that were ever present in the old desert action vids that he used to love as a kid. He half expected the Jakeri Raiders of "The Scorpions Cave" to charge down the isle, demanding to know if he was a son of Jakeri. Smiling at his nostalgic imagination, he continued down the aisle passing tents that advertised cures for everything from radiation sickness to dry skin.

He stopped at end of the aisle, read the small sign that hung outside the tent, and then double-checked his directions. No, he was not mistaken this was the shop he'd been sent to. Starbuck sighed audibly as he stared at the innocent little sign.

Dream Maker: Dream analysis. Dream control. Sleep disorders and remedies.  
Seal making and Seal compatibility. Soul partnering and revelations.

Starbuck shook his head. It was no more than an odd assortment of what appeared to be services no more scientific than fortune telling. Great, just what he needed. He knew Cassie was into spiritual things like palm reading, but he had hoped she would have sent him to a trained professional, not some physic witch doctor.

It wasn't much of a bet that he wouldn't find anything useful at this shop, but he'd promised Cassie he'd come here, so accepting it as a bad bet and a bigger gamble, he took a calming breath and entered the shop.

The shop, if you could call it that, was fairly small and consisted of a few odd chairs, a table and an old dented desk at the back. But it was the treasures behind that desk that had caught Starbuck's eye. There, in the shadows, was a rack filled with what Starbuck would have sworn were real paper books. His entrepreneurial instincts perked up at the possibilities.

"Surprised?" came an amused voice.

Distracted as he was by the sight of such priceless oddities, Starbuck had not noticed the elderly woman who sat smiling at him from behind the desk.  
Elderly? She was beyond even that description. She looked fragile, dwarfed by the desk she sat behind.

"Yes. It's not everyday you see something so old." Once again his eyes were drawn back to the books. Starbuck estimated there were 14 to 15 books on those shelves.

"I may be advancing in age, dear boy, but I wouldn't think my appearance would be so surprising."

Starbuck dragged his eyes from the books and looked back at her. "Huh?" Then what she said registered "Oh, no, no, I didn't mean . I mean the - " and he gestured to the wall behind her.

"Ah, the books. Yes, they are a bit older than me."

Starbuck smiled. "Are they real?"

"Yes, they're quite real."

"I've only seen books like that in museums. They were rare before the Destruction. Now.." and Starbuck soundlessly whistled as he shook his head.  
"I'm surprised you keep them out in the open like this."

"They are my pride and joy, but I share them with those who need them. They are filled with old knowledge. And knowledge, old or not, must be shared or it is of no value to anyone. The healers on this ship often use them as a reference source."

She reached out and waved her hand at the chair before her desk. "Please, Lieutenant, do sit down. I find conversations are much more comfortable that way."

Starbuck looked at the chair she indicated. It looked like a refugee from a junk yard. Metal fragments made up the base and a patchwork of various materials had been sewn together to create the covering. But the proportions! They were all askew; like something you'd see if you were heavily medicated. All in all it looked suspiciously uncomfortable.

"It's more comfortable than it looks, trust me."

Starbuck looked from her, to the chair and then back to her again. "It is?"  
Gingerly, he settled into the travesty that was calling itself a chair, all the while afraid that his weight would be too much for it and he'd end up flat on his back at any centon.

But he didn't grace the floor with his backside. In fact, it felt remarkably solid and it was indeed exceedingly comfortable. It's arms, higher than normal, seemed to wrap around him. Normally that would have made him feel closed in, but this time it was oddly comforting.

"One of my patients made that for me. We here have to be a bit creative in order to get the things we need. Like my books here. It's not like on your warship, Lieutenant - the people here have no doctors to help them. They have only us and what knowledge we have."

"Well, between you and me, I prefer healers to doctors anyway."

"Really, Lieutenant, and here I would have thought you would have preferred the services of a socialator."

He was unaccustomed to the heat of the blush that rose to his face. She looked like someone's grandmother, not someone who should be discussing socialators with such ease. "Oh, well, um, I do think they have some great skills."

"Yes, they have many ways of helping."

Starbuck looked around the shop flustered, as he tried to recompose himself.  
This was silly. If she didn't mind discussing these things then why did it bother him to talk about them to her? But he already knew the answer to that, and it had far less to do with their current conversation and everything to do with what he was here for in the first place. He decided he needed more time before they got to that, so he focused on the array of framed certificates on the top of the improvised bookcase.

"I see you have quite a collection there."

She smiled at him, but did not turn around. "Yes, and I've earned every one of them".

Starbuck looked closer at the collection, of what he had taken for second rate mail order degrees. " You have a doctrine in psychology, from UCLA?"  
Then belatedly realizing his statement could be considered as rude, he quickly tried to explain. "What I meant was."

"It's okay, Lieutenant. Not too many people expect to find a psychology professor giving out advise on one's love life. Yes, I took my degree at University Caprica, Lower Athens. I've actually had far more use of it since we started our journey than I ever did before. So, Lieutenant... uh? Perhaps this conversation would be a bit easier if we introduced ourselves. I am Neralla, and you are?"

"Starbuck". He liked her he decided. She had humor and wit, qualities that Starbuck had always admired.

He watched as she reached behind her, picked up a long handled igniter and lit the large white candle that sat to one side on her desk. "So what brings you in search of my services, Starbuck?"

Starbuck braced himself as if he were going into battle. All his instincts were screaming at him that this was a mistake, that he should leave now, while he still could. But he had made a promise to Cassiopeia. Hidden deep inside himself he realized that wasn't enough to keep him here. No, it was the promise he had made to himself that allowed him to answer. He needed the dreams to stop, before...well 'before' was something he didn't want to think about.

"I've been having dreams."

"Dreams? And you want me to interpret them for you?"

"No." *I know what they mean.*

"Well, then what do you need?"

"I don't know. I, um." *I need you to make them stop.* But he couldn't say it aloud.

"Yes?"

He focused on a truth, even if it wasn't the whole truth. "I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"And these dreams are the cause of your sleeplessness?"

"Yes." *Oh dear Lords, yes.*

"These dreams of yours, do they frighten you?"

"No." He was surprised by the question. No, he wasn't frightened by them - energized, tantalized and lost to them - but not frightened.

"Really? There must be some part of them that you fear, otherwise they would not disturb you so."

Starbuck's unease returned at full throttle and he fidgeted in the now uncomfortable chair. Yes, there were many things in the dreams that disturbed him. The power these dreams had over him, disturbed him. The sensual nature that commanded his aching body, disturbed him.

"I see that these dreams do disturb you. Relax Starbuck, nothing you tell me will go beyond these walls. I can promise you that."

He didn't want to tell anyone about his dreams, especially not an elderly lady who could have easily been his grandmother. "Well. look, to be honest, I don't think there is anything you can do for me."

"I see."

"I only came here because Cassie asked me to. Look, I'm sorry." Starbuck got up. "I don't want to waste your time."

"Lieutenant...Starbuck. You are not wasting my time. And it seems such a shame for you to have come all this way to only have wasted your own time.  
Give this old lady a chance. If, as you say, I can not help you, then what harm will have been done, except that you gave an old lady some good company for a while?"

Starbuck stood by the odd chair, unwilling to stay, yet unable to leave. He needed these dreams to stop, and yes, he realized, he was afraid of them, of what they could do to his relationship with Apollo. He couldn't risk that for any pleasure the dreams fleetingly, guiltily, gave him.

"I might just surprise you Starbuck, and actually be able to offer you some help."

"I don't know. I mean you're nice and all, but..."

"But you fear I'll learn something from them? Something you don't want to know."

"Yes. No. I don't know. I really don't want to talk about them."

"Your dreams?"

"Yeah."

"Then we won't discus the substance of the dreams. Let us concentrate on the meanings instead."

"How? You won't know what they about, how can you interpret them?"

"By helping you to interpret your own feelings about them. Please, Starbuck, do sit back down. I promise you won't have to tell me anything you don't want to. My only concern is to help you get some sleep. That is why you agreed to come, isn't it?"

"I guess." Defeated, Starbuck sank back into the confines of the odd chair, feeling a bit of a kindred spirit with it in its imbalanced state.

"You guess? Don't you know?"

"No, not anymore."

"That's good."

"It is?"

"Yes, that means you are opening up yourself for possibilities you had not previously considered. When dealing with anything, dreams included, it is always best to have an open mind."

She picked up the large candle and walked around the desk to sit in the chair opposite Starbuck.

"Think about how these dreams make you feel. You say they don't frighten you, yet they do upset you. There must be something in them that you fear."

"I don't think so"

"Don't think, Starbuck, feel. Feel the emotions, don't think about the visuals of the dreams, not the actions, but the feelings they create in you.  
Do they make you feel bad?"

"No."

"Unhappy?"

"Yes."

"The dreams are sad, then?"

"No."

"Then why do you think they would make you unhappy?"

"Because they end."


	8. One Vision

Naralla sat with her fingers steepled together, their tips pressed against her upper lip. The room around her had long since faded into darkness. Her eyes, fixed upon the candle light before her, left her mind to wander freely. All her senses were fixed on the feelings and emotions of the troubled young man who had visited her. She had not needed him to speak of his dreams to know them. She had felt them herself, so powerful were the emotions she couldn't help but focus upon them. The images themselves were fuzzy and unclear but the emotions and feelings had erupted in the air around her as they talked. She thought of the one clear image she had gained, mesmerized by the vision of a pair of vivid, intense green eyes. She understood why the lieutenant had been so apprehensive about telling her his dreams. He was denying the truth behind them, fearful of the feelings they evoked in him. It was a hard thing to accept feelings that society told you were wrong, disgusting and perverted. It was a tragedy what society could do in the name of decency. In her years of looking into the hearts of others, she had seen the stuff of romance novels. Loves so pure it defied the human condition. How odd that most of those that loved to this degree of sincerity were outcasts amongst "decent" society, where love was a convenient word used to cover a multitude of sins.

She closed eyes that the candle light had long since faded from. Her head ached and she rubbed at her temples to try and alleviate the tension building there. This was getting more difficult as age crept up on her. The mind was still as sharp, but the body was lagging behind. She knew she had looked too long into the candle light, reflecting on what to do, but the lieutenant's predicament troubled her. He was madly in love with this green eyed dream lover of his, and yet so terrified of it.

She could rid him of his dreams. It was a small matter to block them out, and if the love was as unrequited as the lieutenant thought it was, then maybe she should. That would certainly please Cassiopeia. But Naralla was not in the business of pleasing her old students, no matter how much she cared for them, over the needs of her clients.

However, Naralla did feel sorry for Cassiopeia. The former socialator was determined to make a new start, a new life, with her lieutenant. She had told Naralla how much she loved him and how much she knew he loved her. She was certain he just needed to open himself up to his emotions. Only Naralla knew that was not completely true. Starbuck had opened his heart up to his emotions and they now tormented him at night. His heart was not Cassiopeia's to have. It had been given away yahrens ago. Oh he had tried to love her, but you can't force love no matter how hard you try. Cassiopeia had not stood a chance.

Now Naralla wondered if she had done the right thing. She could still feel the longing and see those green eyes behind her closed lids. Sighing she finally opened her eyes and found herself staring into a pair of very vivid, very real, green eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

"No, no. Please come in." She waved her visitor to the chair before her desk. "How can I help you, Captain?"


	9. Pieces of the past

"Hey, Boomer!"

Boomer looked up from the engine he was bent over and spotted Starbuck heading across the bay towards him. Welcoming the distraction as a much needed break, Boomer stood up and leaned back as far as he could. He was rewarded by several popping sounds as the tension in his back eased. It figured that Starbuck would think to look for him knee deep in the middle of a maintenance tear down and refit of one of his engines, and despite the distance and the oil soaked coverall, was able to spot him from across the bay.

Boomer looked back to the techs, who were uncoupling the tylium lines and figured he could missing this part of the job without too much worry.  
Overseeing and helping in this type of maintenance was something Boomer did religiously. A personal quirk of his, but one he didn't mind having. It was always better to *know* that this kind of major work on his viper was done right, than to assume it was.

Boomer wiped his hands on the small rag he had attached to his coverall and walked to the front of the Viper. The techs, he surmised, would be glad of his absence for a bit.

He watched Starbuck walk unhurriedly toward him and wondered anew where the lieutenant had gone off to this morning. He had not received much of an explanation when Starbuck had half heartedly asked him to trade patrols. He remembered how Starbuck had kept telling him that he knew it was short notice and it was okay if Boomer couldn't swap with him.

Whatever it was Starbuck had to do, he was definitely looking for an excuse to get out of it. So, naturally, to Boomer's way of thinking, it meant it was something Starbuck should do.

Boomer smiled now as he remember the defeated look on Starbuck face as he'd accepted the trade, and the unconvincing mumbled "thanks" as Starbuck walked off, looking for all the world as if he was going to his own execution.

Now, Boomer's curiosity was ready for some much-needed enlightenment.

"Hey, I thought you said you'd take my patrol today?" Starbuck scolded when he stopped in front of Boomer. "Shouldn't you be out flying this bird, not tearing it apart?"

"As it happens, after you swapped patrols with me, Apollo swapped schedules with Bojay and Sheba. It would seems that Apollo doesn't like to fly with anyone but you, Bucko. At least I hope that's it. You don't think he just doesn't like to fly with me do you?"

"I don't know Boomer, you do have a nasty habit of trying to psychoanalyze whoever you fly with." The voice was joking but Boomer could see the wheels turning behind those calculating eyes and he could tell something was bothering Starbuck as he watch the characteristic shifting from foot to foot. "He switched schedules?"

"Yes, my friend, you get to fly the ever popular graveyard patrols next secton." Boomer waited for the anticipated response but Starbuck was looking down at the ground and Boomer wondered if he'd even heard him.

Then Starbuck stopped his shifting and looked up from the floor to meet Boomers eyes with outrage. "The what? Apollo has to be crazy! We just rotated out of that slot on the last shift change. He can't do that."

"Well it seems 'The Captain' doesn't see it that way."

"So, that's why I haven't seen him. Hiding out in the duty office is he?"  
Starbuck spun around to head back across the bay.

"He's not there!" Boomer call out before his impulsive friend could get more than two steps away.

Boomer watched, amused, as Starbuck spun back around and looked expectantly back at Boomer.

"He took the day off," Boomer supplied helpfully.

"Do you know where he is?"

"No. I haven't seen him since this morning. Speaking of this morning, Bucko.  
How did, whatever you had to do, go?"

"Fine. Ah, look Boomer, I've got to go find Apollo and..."

"Now, hold on Starbuck. Since when do you get out of a patrol and not tell me about it?"

"Since now." Starbuck was shifting his feet again and wouldn't meet Boomer's eyes. "Look, I'm sorry Boomer, but this is a bit personal. I need to take care of this on my own."

Boomer had seen Starbuck in many situations - on the run from security, card sharks, girls, you name it and Starbuck's gotten in over his head about it - but in the end they'd always worked it out together. It was upsetting to see Starbuck put up a wall that had never been between them before. "Oh, okay, if you want it that way."

"Boomer..." Starbuck looked up and met Boomers gaze. "It's not something that you can help me with this time buddy."

"Are you sure about that? We make a pretty unbeatable team." Starbuck laughed at that but Boomer could tell he wasn't relenting. Boomer sighed. He knew he'd lost this one. Even Starbuck was entitled to some privacy, even if he'd never needed it before. "Okay, Bucko, but if you need anything..."

"Thanks Boomer." Starbuck clapped him on the shoulder then turned and headed off across the bay.

Boomer hoped he'd find Apollo. If Starbuck wouldn't open up to him, he hoped he'd open up to Apollo.


	10. So Lonely

Starbuck's thoughts were a jumble. He'd long since forgotten about the swapped patrols, there were other more pressing matters that filled his mind, demanding a solution. Starbuck didn't know what to do. He needed to talk to Apollo, try and feel him out. He admitted to himself he was afraid to try Naralla's suggestions as much as he was afraid of facing Apollo. He knew his attempts to find the Captain had been haphazard, deep down in side Starbuck didn't want to find him. Yet, he needed to talk to him, but by all the Lords, he didn't know what he'd say. What could he say? "Hey Apollo, I'm been having sexually graphic dreams about you, want to talk about them?" Oh yeah, that'd go over like a leaded floater.

As he'd been trying to chase down his scattered thoughts, Starbuck had walked almost blind through the corridors, not really caring where he went. So it shouldn't have been a surprise when his feet stopped before a door, yet as Starbuck looked up from the decking before him he was surprised to find himself at Apollo's quarters.

It seems his feet, on auto pilot, had brought him to Apollo's quarters.

Starbuck had walked this path many times over the last yahren of their flight across the stars. He'd been friends with Apollo long before the destruction of the colonies and they spent many a night in Apollo's quarters talking about everything from Boxey's loose teeth to the life and death around them.

Now, as he stared at the closed door, he felt barred from those times. He suddenly realized he could never go back to those simpler times. He'd learned too much about himself and his feeling for Apollo during his talk with Naralla.

Starbuck stood outside the door unable to move. He looked down and saw his hand no more than an inch away from the call button. He couldn't remember reaching out to it. One by one he slowly and deliberately curled his fingers away from the button and into a fist preventing them from pressing it. Some part of him hoped Apollo would open his door and see him out there, yet the rest of him feared just that.

As he stood there looking at the closed door before him, Starbuck's chest began to tighten, breathing became more difficult and he felt as if something was crushing his chest. He had to force his lungs to expand with each breath as they became harder and more painful to take. His eyes blurred and burned with unshed tears, his gut ached painfully as if he'd eaten that leaded floater.

Slowly he turned from the door, and walked away.


	11. Wild hearts

There was the softness of a caress and the feel of flesh against flesh.  
Hands roved over hard bodies, softly at first, then harder, demanding more, needing more.

Starbuck's skin was on fire. Each movement, each brush of contact, burned desire through him. He groaned aloud as his mouth was captured by demanding lips that seemed to brand his own with the fieriness of their conquest.

Somewhere deep inside him, a part of Starbuck was aware that this was a dream. It struggled to break the spell the dream had already woven around him.

Gasping for breath, he managed to break away. His dream self rolled off the yielding body beneath him and sat up. Starbuck's eyes eagerly devoured the body on display before him.

A flush of passion added a heady beauty to Apollo's already tanned skin, darkening it to a fiery bronze. Starbuck allowed his eyes to travel down the body in a visual caress, from the passion darkened eyes; down the smooth lines of neck and shoulders; across the heaving chest that rose and fell in sync with Starbuck's own breathlessness; across the hard abdomen down beyond the perfect navel to the straining shaft.

Starbuck marveled at the sight. He had never considered his own erection to be beautiful, but the sight before him was just that.

"Starbuck?" The voice was filled with a questioning quality that made Starbuck wonder if Apollo had only just realized Starbuck had pulled away.

Slowly the dream Apollo sat up across from him. Starbuck felt hypnotized by each movement, each ripple of muscle under the bronze, taut skin. Yet, somehow, as lost as he was to the wonders of this imaginary world, Starbuck tried to regain control of the dream.

"I...I'm not sure what to say," he heard himself say as he struggled against the sensual power of the dream. "I need this to stop."

"I know."

For the first time Starbuck looked into the eyes across from him. He was surprised by the sadness that was reflected there.

"It's not like I don't like this." Starbuck tried to explain, yet he found it difficult to find the right words. How could he explain something he didn't understand himself. The dream Apollo just smiled at him and Starbuck smiled back. "Yeah, me, turning down a good thing. But this...it's just not what I need. It's not..."

"Not real?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure this isn't real Starbuck?" The dream Apollo reach over and picked up one of Starbuck's hands and brought it to his mouth where he placed a small kiss in the center of the palm.

"This is a dream," Starbuck tried to tell himself, but only managed a weak whisper. His attention was absorbed by the tantalizing sensation of the kiss.

"Perhaps it is."

The soft words mumbled into his palm sent electrifying shivers up Starbuck's arm

Apollo lifted his head away from Starbuck's hand, his eyes meeting Starbuck's "But I know my feelings are real. What are yours Starbuck? Do they feel any less real when awake?"

"I don't know what I feel anymore."

Apollo seemed to search Starbuck's face, as if trying to find the answers there. "I think you're afraid of what you feel. I don't think you've ever felt things like this before and it frightens you. And I think it frightens you, because you don't know what to do if they are real."

"It doesn't really matter what I feel. This...it could never be. "

"What, Starbuck. Could never be what?"

"Returned," he whispered.

"Why, Starbuck? What feelings do you think I couldn't

return?"

'"I don't know...look it's doesn't matter, what matters is that these dreams have to stop."

"Doesn't matter? But Starbuck, we keep having these dreams."

"Because...I...I haven't wanted them to stop," Starbuck admitted.

"Why not? If it was simply just the sex, would they bother you as much?"

"No."

"Then what bothers you Starbuck?"

"I...I don't know."

"I think you do."

"Alright! Alright. It's not the sex. It's.....it's the way they make me feel."

"And you don't like these feelings?"

"I don't...I don't understand them. I feel so lost at times and yet.."

"Found?"

"I guess, maybe. I feel stressed. Frustrated. The dreams...they're not enough."

"Enough of what?"

"Everything. Desire. Need. They're not... I can't explain it. It's just not enough."

"Do you love me Starbuck?"

"Love you? Of course, I love you. You're the closest thing I have to a family. You're like a brother to me. No. More than a brother - you are part of me."

"Like we are here in this dream?"

"This dream? This dream is a fantasy" Starbuck looked around him, then back to the bed, and Apollo . "It's something I can never have."

"You sound so sure of that."

"What else could it be?"

"A wish. A desire for something more that what we have in reality. Something we both want, but are to afraid to admit to. Except in these dreams. "

"The sex? Well it might surprise some people but I've never wanted sex with another man before. So why now? Why you?"

"I don't think they're about sex at all, Starbuck. I think it's more than that. It's about the feelings, the emotions..the sex is just an outlet for them. The only way our subconscious can express them."

Starbuck looked past Apollo to the shapeless void around them. Could that be it? He wondered, could it really be about emotions and feelings? He had to admit he wasn't one to hold onto feelings. He enjoyed sex, for sex. He never made emotional connections to it. That was too dangrous. But these dreams, they did created emotions in him. Emotions that he'd tried so hard to ignore, to pretend they didn't exist, that they weren't real.

Could the sex really be a result of denying those feelings?

"I've never felt like this before," Starbuck admitted as he searched the swirling void for the answers that were eluding him. "I've always cared for you. You and me, we're a team. But these feelings, they've taken me beyond that. What ever you want to call them...desire, longing, these cravings; they're so strong. I never wanted anyone so badly. No one has ever made me this crazy. Not Athena, not even Cassie," Starbuck looked away from the void meeting Apollo's gaze. "Only you."

Starbuck looked down to the hand that still held his. Was this love? Lords, it felt, yes, it felt so right. Lords help me, I do feel something.  
Something too stronge for me to hide.

Starbuck gripped the hand that held his. "What you think of me...it means everything. I can't risk that. Our friendship...I won't risk it. It's too important. I have to stop this, before it too late."

Apollo let Starbuck's hand go. "Do you really want this to stop? To go on as if these dreams never happened?"

"I don't want to lose you because of them."

"Lose me?

"Yes"

"Because you don't think I couldn't possibly feel the same way, that I'd be offended, repulsed even, by them?"

"Yes."

Starbuck shifted, turning away from Apollo. He'd been afraid of Apollo's reaction since the first dream. If Apollo ever found out...couldn't face that. Couldn't even face it here, with his dream Apollo. "Look, you have to understand. Sex...it's always been about the conquest. Who could I get? How long could they hold out against my charm? Then there was the satisfying reward of a mission completed. Sex was a game, an enjoyable game, but a game...never like this. This is different. I'm not in control. It controls me. It makes me want more. More than a simple conquest. More than a release.  
More. " Starbuck turned back to face Apollo. He had to make Apollo understand. "It fills a hole in me. An emptiness I didn't even know existed."

Apollo smiled at him in understanding. "Yeah. It's like finding the one thing that makes you whole, and yet you never knew you were missing it.  
That's love, Starbuck."

"And what kind of love is this?"

The room around them suddenly began to shift. The shapeless space, where only the bed they sat on existed, dissolved around them. Starbuck watched as Apollo's image blurred before him. Then everything solidified again and Apollo stood, fully clothed, in front of him. Starbuck didn't need to look down, the feel of his own clothes told him he was also dressed.

Apollo reached out and gently grasped one of Starbuck's hands and lifted it up to his cheek. He then slowly brushed Starbuck's palm across the side of his face.

Starbuck watched transfixed as Apollo closed his eyes at the contact, and smiled. "It's the kind of love that doesn't require sex to validate it. It validates the sex."

The sensation of the rough stubble as it passed across his palm sent a shiver though Starbuck's body and yet it was the tender nature of the gesture that made his heart skip a beat.

Starbuck's hand cupped the check that it was caressing. Apollo opened his eyes and Starbuck almost lost himself in the love that flooded back at him.  
"It's when you need to be with someone so much you ache with it." Apollo continued, "You want to hold them so close you become a part of them."

Apollo touched the hand that still cradled his face, then brushed his own hand down along Starbuck's arm, to the shoulder, and with the lightest of pressures, drew Starbuck to him as his right hand went around Starbuck's waist, gently pulling him still closer.

The kiss was like nothing they'd shared before in the dreams. It was soft, tender, precious. Starbuck leaned into the kiss pressing Apollo down. Down onto the couch that was suddenly there below them. Starbuck reveled in the feeling of having Apollo viturally wrapped around him. The yeilding body cradling his own as Apollo's arms wraped around him. It made him feel safe, secure, loved. Pulling back from the kiss, he traced Apollo's face with his fingers. He could only stare into those loving eyes, so lost was he to the reality of the dream at this moment.

"Do you love me Starbuck?"

"Yes. More than I want to admit to myself, more than I dare admit to you."

Apollo smiled at him, " I love you, too. I was so afraid of it."

"Me too. It chills my blood to think you'd ever find out about all of this, these feelings I have for you."

"I've been having them too, Starbuck. I don't know where they've come from, but I've learned to accept them, and how I feel about them."

"How do you feel about them? About this...about my desire for you?"

Apollo search Starbuck's face for a moment before answering. "I've thought about it a lot, and to be honest, I didn't know what to think at first. They were so raw...so desperate...I was taken aback by the intensity. It frightened me."

Starbuck ducked his head unable to meet Apollo's eyes. "That's what I've always feared, that you'd be afraid of these feelings I have, repulsed by them...and me."

"No, Starbuck." Apollo placed his hand under Starbuck's chin and gently raised his head up forcing Starbuck to meet his gaze again. "It was my own reaction that frighten me. What *I* felt. What I wanted. I was afraid you'd realize what I was thinking, what I was dreaming about. "

"You? You don't mind? You... ?"

"Enjoy them? Yes. I never imagined anything could be like this, but yes, I enjoy them. It amazed me how easly for you took commanded of my body, creating sensations I'd never felt before, and how you made me desire them."

Starbuck was stunned by this admission. Perhaps...? Then he remember he was still dreaming. "I wish ..."

"What?"

"I wish, this was real. I don't want this to be a dream anymore. "

"It doesn't have to be."

Starbuck stared down at Apollo, feeling he was already too deep into the fantasy of the dream, and sat up. "I can't." He turned away the dream, from Apollo, afraid to look at him, afraid of the dream.

He felt Apollo sit up next to him "Why?"

"Lords, this all wrong. I could never have this conversation with you in the real world. I could never admit to you how much I feel for you. How much these dreams mean to me. I can only image how horrified you'd be. How could I face you if you found out what we've done in these dreams. What I've done to you?"

Starbuck could feel Apollo leaned closer as he placed a hand on his shoulder. Starbuck turned troubled eyes toward Apollo. "I've denied the truth for so long. These dreams now affect my waking hours and I'm terrified that I'll do something, say something and you'll notice. I've never felt this way about anyone before...it scares me."

Starbuck stood up trying to distance himself from the dream, from Apollo. "I could never tell you any of this. These dreams have to stop. I can't lose you. "

"You won't lose me, Starbuck. You could never lose me. Lord help us both, but I love you. I won't leave you."

"This is a dream.."

"I admit, I'm afraid that maybe this *is* only a dream. But, I'm hoping...no, I know, it has to be more than that. I don't think this is a dream anymore, Starbuck. I think this is something else. Something Narrala was trying to tell me."

"Narrala?" Starbuck felt a jolt, part of him had almost believed this Apollo, but the mention of Narrala reminded him that he was the one controlling this dream. He was using the method she taught him, to help him end these dreams. "You are only saying what I want you to say. This isn't real. You're not real"

"I am real, Starbuck."

"No, you're a dream"

"Let me prove it to you."

Suddenly, the room began to ripple and the mists swirled in upon them.  
Somewhere in the distance Starbuck could hear a low buzzing.

"No. Starbuck, wait!" Apollo reached toward him, but the more he reached the further away he became.

Starbuck tried to ignore the buzzing as it came closer, growing in volume as it did. Not yet, his mind cried out, the distance between them increasing.  
He felt himself being pulled away.

In the distance he could hear Apollo call out to him, but his voice was hard to pick out of the roar the buzzing had become. "Starbuck! Trust me...talk...me...Starbuck..."

"Apollo!" Starbuck sat up, his hand outstretched in front of him, desperately trying to reach Apollo, to hear what he was saying, but the only sound was the infuriating buzzing of the alarm.

Starbuck picked it up and threw it as hard as he could across the room. It hit the far wall and shattered. Starbuck closed his eyes, trying to conjure up the last moments of the dream, but it was useless. The dream was gone.

"It was only a dream," he told himself aloud, trying to rid himself of the unsettling questions the dream had left him with. "Just a dream," he repeated.


	12. Set free

Apollo stood in his small kitchenette, the cup cradled in his hands forgotten, its cooling contents un-tasted. His mind was filled with a chaotic jumble of thoughts and images the last dream had left him with, yet a part of his mind still registered and kept track of the ever present noise from Boxey's room

Apollo had spent the majority of the early morning staring up at the ceiling in his bedroom, replaying the dream over and over in his head until he had finally given up on sleep altogether and gotten up. He didn't have anywhere to be this morning, since Boxey's teacher had taken the morning off, thus giving him the excuse for some much needed time with his son. Now with Boxey happily plotting their morning activity, his mind was free to wonder endless through the what-ifs that had keep him from sleeping all morning.

What if he was right. What if these dreams were more than just his own imagination? What if he was wrong? He could lose more than a few nights sleep if he had misjudged this. Starbuck had been right about one thing, these dreams, had to stop. One way or another he would stop them.

Unfortunately, no matter how many time his mind ran through this problem, there was only one real solution. He had to talk to Starbuck. But how?

Trying to track Starbuck down lately had been harder than finding a matching pair of Boxey's socks. The only time he had seen Starbuck lately, was when they were on duty. At first Apollo had viewed it as a challenge, it wasn't as if Starbuck could leave the Galactica without Apollo's consent, but Starbuck had shown Apollo just how big the Galactica really was. It wasn't long before Apollo had realized that it was an exercise in futility to locate Starbuck when he didn't want to found.

Starbuck's inaccessibility only added to Apollo's certainty that he wasn't the only one sharing these dreams. Apollo sighed in frustration. After four centars, he was still no closer to a solution.

Just then, the com at his desk broke the silence causing Apollo to jump at the unexpected sound and grab hastily at the cup that slipped through his hands.

Placing the rescued cup on the counter Apollo walked over to his desk.  
Taking a deep breath, he pushed out all thoughts of the dream and gathered his wits around him before he answered the com. Behind him he could hear Boxey approaching.

He ended the call just as Boxey's patience gave out. "You can't go. You've got the day off."

"Boxey, you know I don't have a choice."

"Do you really have to go?" Boxey whined in his best plaintive voice.

"Yes, I do. I'll call Athena to come over and stay with you, okay?"

Apollo watched as Boxey sat down on the small sofa, the list he'd written out for their morning together floated to the floor, unheeded.

"I guess", came the sullen reply.

"Tell you what," Apollo knelt down in from of the boy, "how about I bring you some mushies when I return?"

"Okay." The response was as enthusiastic as if Apollo had just suggested they visit the sanitation barge. Then an idea, created out of desperation, popped into his head. He rejected it at first, this was no time to try and solve his problems with Starbuck, but the though persisted. Maybe, just maybe....

Apollo walked back to his desk and commed the landing bay.

"Bojay? Apollo. Has Boomer and Starbuck returned from their patrol yet?  
Good. Can you send Starbuck to my quarters? Yes, I got the message. As soon as Starbuck shows up, I'll be there."

"Starbuck?" The prospect of spending some time with one of his favorite warriors, did wonders to cheer Boxey up. Apollo pushed aside his doubts about this hastily made arrangement and smiled at Boxey.

It wasn't long before Starbuck showed up. He came in, concern written on his face. "What's up?"

Apollo was prevented from answering by a happy screech behind him.

"Starbuck!"

Starbuck braced himself for the well known launch and caught Boxey in mid-flight. "Hey Kiddo."

"I've got go up to the Bridge for a meeting and I needed someone to keep an eye on Boxey for me," Apollo told Starbuck as he gathered a few papers from his desk. His mind was racing, trying to think of an acceptable explanation for why he had call Starbuck, off duty no less, to come baby-sit for him.

Starbuck put Boxey down and watched him run off calling to Muffit to come say hello. "Not that I don't like the kid and all, but why me? Why not Athena?"

Apollo bit his lip as he held back his initial, if truthful response.  
'Because I need to talk to you and I want to know where to find you when I get back' and instead offered a small lie. "Athena's busy and I knew you and Boomer were due back from patrol. I don't have time to find anyone else." Apollo rushed through his explanation, hoping speed could override the inadequacies and in it. He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair and headed for the door. "I shouldn't be long. - Thanks!" Apollo was past Starbuck and out the door before Starbuck could respond.

Once outside Apollo hurried down the corridor toward the lift. His haste had nothing to do with his meeting and everything to do with making a clean escape. At least now he knew where he could find Starbuck when he got back.

Now all he had to do was figure out what to say.


	13. haunting me

Starbuck, still standing were Apollo had left him, stared slack-jawed at the closed door. Running his hand through his hair Starbuck could only stare and wonder what had just happened. He had spent his time on patrol trying to think up ways of avoiding Apollo today. He needed to think without distractions, so how had he ended up here, in Apollo's quarters? It wasn't as if he'd never watched Boxey for Apollo before, but heck, he was technically still on duty for another 20 centons. Apollo couldn't expect him to do his paper work in his quarters? Apparently he did, Starbuck thought sourly.

Just then a small tornado of activity came running into the room. "Where's Dad?"

"Ah...he left." Starbuck was too confused by the abruptness of Apollo's exit to realize how Boxey would react.

Boxey's response wasn't long in coming, "But I didn't get a chance to say goodbye!" he whined.

"Neither did I." Accepting the inevitability, Starbuck took control of the situation. "I guess that means he'll owe both of us some mushies when he gets back."

"Yeah," agreed Boxey, enjoying the camaraderie with Starbuck. "Do you think he'll bring choco ones?"

"He'd better!" Starbuck said. "If he know what's good for him. So, squirt what shall we do until then?"

"Let's play Pyramid!" Boxey offered as he hurried a nearby cupboard and pulled out a deck of cards.

Starbuck took the offered cards, noticing that they didn't look as if they'd ever been used. They still had that waxy sheen that made them slide effortlessly across each other. Starbuck never liked new cards, they were hard to handle.

"Tell you what, kid. I still have to fill out my patrol report, so why don't you get these card shuffled properly while I work at your Dad's desk?"

Starbuck found it hard to concentrate on his report. The whole place smelled of Apollo, but here at his desk it was worse. It wasn't a surprise that Apollo would spend so much time at his desk.

Everything on the desk distracted Starbuck, reminding him of the owner. The neat and tidy piled of papers, even the way the clips were precisely lined up in their container, spoke of Apollo's neat nick behavior. Starbuck reached out and ran his finger thought the pile of clips turning their orderly formation into a jumbled mass. Satisfied with his handiwork Starbuck turned his attention back to his report.

It seemed to take twice as long as it should have and he was interrupted every so often by yawns that threaten to dislocate his jaw. His plans to find a nice quite spot somewhere on deck 23 were long gone, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. He paused at one point noticing that Boxey had given up on the card shuffling and returned to his room where Starbuck could hear him playing Warrior and Cylon with Muffit. With one last yawn, Starbuck added his last comments and sent the report on to Bojay. Able to relax now, Starbuck laid his head down on the desk inhaling deeply the soft musky sent of Apollo and close his eyes. He'd just close his eyes and recoup some energy before Boxey demanded his attention.

Jerking his head up Starbuck realized he'd drifted off.

His neck was stiff. Trying to rub out the kink he went and settled on the small sofa. He figured Boxey would come looking for him when he was tired of playing with Muffit. Starbuck leaned his head back , closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	14. Until the morning light

Starbuck opened his eyes. He'd fallen asleep again. He laid where he was and tried to clear his mind. Looking around his eyes narrowed with confusion. Why were the lights dimmed? He knew they'd been at full power when he'd sat down. The room was eerily quiet.

Slowly Starbuck got up. He headed toward Boxey's room, unnerved by the silence that came from there. Something in the kitchenette glittered as he passed. He saw a glimpse of white porcelain and stopped. He walked over to it. It was a white bowl, with red markings. It was the bowl he'd seen at the market where he had seen Naralla. He remembered that he'd wanted to buy for Boxey. What was it doing here? Starbuck picked it up and ran his hands over it.

Across the room Starbuck spotted a jacket tossed across a chair. Apollo's jacket. Just as it had been before he left.

"I'm dreaming again." Starbuck put the bowl down and looked at the doorway to Apollo's bedroom. The door, which had been closed when he'd fallen asleep was now open. Slowly he walked across the room his eyes focused on the open doorway. He looked around the corner, knowing what he'd find.

Apollo lay asleep on the bed. "Definitely dreaming," Starbuck murmured as he stared at the sight. Apollo lay on top of the covers, still in his uniform. His boots, evidently kicked off, were sprawled on the floor at the foot of the bed. Starbuck walked over to the sleeping form. "Lords I'd give anything for this to be real," he whispered.

At his words Apollo stirred and opened his eyes. Startled green eyes, looked into calm blue ones. Without saying a thing, Starbuck placed his arms on the either side of Apollo and leaned over him. Apollo rolled onto his back, keeping his eyes riveted to Starbuck's.

"Star..."

Starbuck placed a finger against his lips, stopping him. "Shhh."

Starbuck leaned down and placed a feather-light kiss on the lips below him.

He could feel Apollo's lips move, but not to return the kiss. "Starbuck..."

Starbuck firmly pressed his lips down silencing Apollo again. He gently sucked and nibbled at the tender lips and taking advantage of their opened state he delved inward savoring the taste of Apollo's mouth. Apollo's lips were moving again, but this time they were apply their own tactile enchantments to Starbuck's lips.

Apollo placed his hands around Starbuck drawing him down. Starbuck shifted and stretched out on top of Apollo. His hands were on either side of Apollo's head, holding it still as he savored Apollo's lips like a good ambrosia. Starbuck pulled back slightly and gently licked the now puffy lips before traveling to the intoxicating scents of the neck. He started placing more light kisses down from the base of the ear down along to the hollow in the neck. Apollo gasped when Starbuck began to gently suck the soft skin he found there.

"Starbuck...." Apollo gasped out, his breath ragged. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"Driving you wild with passion, I hope," he replied, he gently blew across the now wet neck, smiling at the chills that ran through Apollo.

"Yes. No, Starbuck....this isn't a dream."

"You said that last time."

"No, I mean it. Starbuck." Apollo placed his hands on either side of Starbuck's head and pulled him up to look him in the eyes. "This isn't a dream."

"If this isn't a dream then why would you let me kiss you like this?" Starbuck broke loose of Apollo's grip and kissed him again.

Apollo returned the kiss enthusiastically for a while, then pulled back lifting Starbuck's head again.

"Because I love you, you fool."

"See, a perfect dream."

"Starbuck. You're not asleep."

Starbuck sat up, the beginning of uncertainty filling him.

"But.. what about the bowl and all this? After all, you're at a meeting and I'll be watching Boxey until Athena rescues me. And that won't be for a while."

Below him Apollo smiled. "Starbuck, you fell asleep. It's been centars since I left for that meeting."

"Centars? I couldn't have been asleep that long, and where's Boxey?"

"He's at school."

"School? But you asked me to come watch him, why would he be in school?" It was too convenient, this had to be a dream, and yet....something wasn't right.

Apollo sat up. "When I came back from my meeting, I found you asleep on the couch. You looked so tired I didn't want to wake you. Boxey was only off for the morning. I took him to school . When I got back you were still asleep, so I left you on the couch and came in here. I figured I'd just lie down for bit. I didn't intend to fall asleep..." Apollo trailed off.

All through Apollo's explanation Starbuck had felt his inside freeze and he now felt like he was going to be sick.

"Oh Lords!" Starbuck jumped up off the bed and backed away. He looked everywhere but at Apollo. "Um, I'm sorry... I'm mean I was still asleep... I ..I...I'm going now.. " and Starbuck turned and bolted for the door.

"Starbuck!" Apollo called after him. "Please!"

Starbuck stopped at the pleading sound in Apollo's voice. His hand wavered before the door sensor. He could hear Apollo get up and walk over to him, but he couldn't turn around, too afraid of what he'd see on Apollo's face.

"Starbuck, please don't go." The words were a bare whisper, but they were heavily laden with emotion.

"Apollo, look, I'm sorry I didn't mean....."

Apollo cut him off. "Please don't tell me you didn't mean to kiss me."

"What?" Starbuck dared a look at Apollo. He didn't look horrified or offended. "Why?"

"Starbuck, I've had those dreams too."

"Dreams? You...?"

"Yes, me and you. I don't understand it, but if your dreams were anything like mine...."

"What?"

"Well, I was hoping you wouldn't leave."

Starbuck didn't know what to say. Did Apollo mean what he thought?

"I don't want to dream anymore, Starbuck."

"Oh." Starbuck looked down. For a moment he had thought....well he'd been wrong.

"Yeah, me too," he choked out.

Apollo put his hands on Starbuck's shoulder and turned him around to face him. Starbuck I don't want to dream this anymore." But before Starbuck could wrench out a another false agreement, Apollo leaned forward and placed a tentative kiss on Starbuck lips. " I want them to be real this time. "

Starbuck's heart was pounding so hard in his chest he was sure he'd heard Apollo wrong. He looked into Apollo's eyes and saw the longing that mirrored his own shining back out at him. "Really? I... I mean are you sure your dreams are the same as mine?"

"I hope so." Apollo leaned forward and kissed Starbuck again. Only there was nothing tentative about this one - this one was full and lustful. Apollo's lips made love to Starbuck's as they moved demandingly across them, sucking and nipping gently. When Apollo pulled back, it took Starbuck a moment to come back to reality and open his eyes. Amusement hovered in the green eyes that were so close to his own.

"Please Starbuck, love me the way you've been doing in my dreams."

A groan escaped Starbuck as he reached forward and gathered Apollo into his arms. He found it hard to believe, hard to hope, but reality was here in his arms. He couldn't deny the truth any longer.

His dreams really had come true.

The End.

"Desperate Dreams"  
by Survivor

Two dreamers, what would it be like, to meet by light of day?  
So lonely, wouldn't it feel right, to love this night away?  
Your name, keeps echoing down this wishing well  
Wild hearts on an endless flight  
Set free in our dreams tonight

(chorus)  
Two souls, jointed to the fire in desperate dreams

Two hearts, lost to desire's desperate schemes  
One girl, lost in her reverie  
Lost love, found in a memory  
Those nights, live on forever  
Two fools, lost in a desperate dream

Torn pages, more than a memory, pieces of the past  
One vision, your image keeps haunting me, a love too good to last  
Oo, Your voice, keeps echoing down this wishing well  
Wild hearts on an endless flight  
Set free in our dreams tonight

(chorus)

One love divided  
Burns brightly through the night  
Two dreams united  
Until the morning light

(chorus)

Lost in a desperate dream


End file.
